Retribution
by Kalnar
Summary: Revenge. The one word that can change a world. Warning: It's a high T rating. Zombies, guns, and Titans. Who could ask for more?
1. Prologue

A/N If you have seen the TV Show Dollhouse, than you will already by familiar with the premise, although this has a slight twist to it. Also, I don't own the Titans.

Also, I opted to have Beast Boy be referred to as Logan in this. In a post-apocalyptic world, it sounds much tougher than Garfield, and way tougher than Gar. I left the term Gar to Rachel, as Logan's pet name.

I called them The Pack in order to make sure that no one thought I was trying to rip off the name the Horde (from L4D) or Butchers (from Dollhouse)

A quick note on Logan's weaponry. He carries Glock 18s because I love Glocks, and I wanted him to have automatic pistols, not because I'm a CoD freak. I was actually inspired to have the dual automatic pistols by Equilibrium, but I didn't want have Berettas because I didn't want to copy that awesome movie.

And to all of those people who think I don't know what an M203 is, you can go suck it. The 320 is the improved version of the 203.

Garfield Logan slept fitfully, the flickering fire wreaking havoc with his sleep and light-sensitive eyes. Remnants of his spandex uniform could be seen used as patches in a few spots, the majority of his clothing now consisting of much more durable materials.

The wavering campfire burned irregularly, constantly wavering from dull light to brilliantly sharp illumination and everywhere in between. The red-orange glow exposed the rocky cave that Logan inhabited, along with his only companions in the world, of which two were sound asleep. The other two, Dick Grayson and Koriand'r (often shortened to Kori), sat on nearby rocks keeping an eye out for anyone unwanted.

The need for people to stand watch had only become necessary after The Day. While unimaginatively named, it was referred to by all survivors with the same hate, the same fury. LexCorp had developed a weapon to powerful for any human to have. Upon detonation, this bomb created a massive sonic wave that brainwashed all within hearing range. Luthor decided it was his turn to rule the world, and detonated the bomb just outside his main headquarters, transmitting the sound across the globe via satellite communications. Unfortunately, Luthor's device is flawed. Instead of creating a world full of obedient people, it deleted most upper brain function, leaving only base needs. Luthor's bomb created a world of smart, fast zombies, capable of operating machinery and weaponry.

Fortunately for the Titans, Raven was able to feel her brain slipping away and popped a shield up around her and her fellow Titans. While Luthor was able to wipe enough of their memories to render their powers useless, he was not able to take away their minds completely. Her timing was poor, unfortunately, and she dropped it moments before the wave had entirely passed through, reducing her ability to use her powers from "limited" to "not at all." Other survivors were similarly lucky, by happenstance had either been shielded from the transmissions, or had been outside the range of electronics at the time. Needless to say, survivors were few and far between.

Logan woke with a start, positive that he had heard a noise. Dick and Kori appeared concerned as well, dropping down behind the shelter of some nearby rocks. Vic was already up, tinkering with his body. He had weapons built in to his skin, but he couldn't remember how to activate them, and had already logged countless hours in vain attempts to do so. No doubt that's what he was doing. Logan glanced over at the sleeping form of his wife. They had been at their wedding ceremony when the device had gone off. Logan remembered having to fight the pastor and the congregation, just to stay alive. Thank God that that thing hadn't wiped their memories of all the combatives training that Dick had made them go through. All of them had given up the use of their superhero names, as none seemed appropriate anymore.

"Why call me Beast Boy if he can't morph? Or why call Rachel Raven when she can't do any of her magic, gizmo thingies?" Logan had argued. The rest of the team agreed, and the secret identities were revealed for all involved. Logan reached over and shook his Rachel gently. She stirred, but was still groggy.

"Not now, honey. Maybe we can do it some other time." Logan shook her more urgently.

"Get up! He whispered frantically. "Someone's coming." Rachel rose, despite her intense desire to roll over and fall sleep. Anyone visiting was generally a bad thing. Usually it involved a gunfight, with either the Pack (as Vic and Logan had christened them) or with other survivors (usually about control over the dwindling resources).

Vic rose wordlessly, grabbing his M240 Bravo from where it lay propped up against a nearby rock. Although crude in comparison to their powers, standard weaponry had been the only way they could have survived as long as they had. He had become a man of few words and few jovialities after he had to kill his brainwashed fiancée. He plopped down behind a rock and took aim at the approaching Pack.

Kori unslung the SCAR from her back, pulling the charging handle partway back to check to see if there was around in the chamber. She clicked the safety off, putting the weapon on automatic, before assuming a position next to her lover. She and Dick had been lovers for a long time, but had never been married, let alone engaged. They were happy with their relationship, and that's all they wanted. She pressed a button and her EOTech sight clicked on, generating a hovering red circle over the approaching Pack.

Dick clicked down the Harris bipod on his M14, peering through the ACOG 4x zoom scope. He was the marksman of the group, and hence had the most powerful rifle. He did possess more powerful optics, but the vast majority of engagements didn't call for that powerful of an optic. They generally avoided conflicts if at all possible, so they didn't shoot unless they were being charged or shot at, so they never engaged him in a sniper role.

Logan was the wrecking ball of the group. He carried an M4 with an M320 grenade launcher, double Glock 18s, and a Remington 870 on his back in case things got ugly. He was obviously a bit slower and less agile with all of this weaponry, but he was just as lethal. He took a quick inventory of his weaponry and ammunition, making sure everything was loaded, before turning to his sexy wife to help her out.

Rachel pulled a jacket over her shirt, and slapped a magazine into her silenced M4. The Pack only reacted to things they had experienced, and there were enough survivors at one point in time that every single Pack Member knew what gunfire sounded like. Consequently, none of them new what a suppressor sounded like. It had only been heard either under two circumstances: 1) In a major gunfight, where the deaths of their Pack Mates were attributed to the already known noise of gunfire 2) During individual engagements, where the silenced weapon takes out an individual Pack Member. In these cases, the rest of the Pack may hear the noise and see a Pack Mate fall, but if they look around and don't see anyone, they will go back to doing whatever they were doing before. This allowed Rachel to do untold amounts of damage when the Pack was focused on the noise the rest of her team was making.

Rachel walked up alongside the rest of her team, weapon at the ready. Dick was already taking aim, leveling the crosshairs at the head, silhouetted by flames of Jump City burning in the background.

"Ready… ready…" he said quietly. Each member gripped their weapon a little tighter, and steadied their aim on an individual Pack Member. Dick pulled the trigger to the rear, killing the leading member of the Pack. The rest of the Titans opened fire, bathing the cavern in flickering lights. The Pack dropped like flies, cut down by this unsuspected onslaught of fire and metal. After a good 20 seconds of sustained fire, they group stopped firing. They got up and walked slowly through the killzone, ending the lives of the few remaining Pack.

The group retreated to the cave, grabbed their few belongings, and began hiking their way through the woods, beginning their journey across the country. They moved quickly, knowing that another, probably bigger, Pack would show up soon to investigate the noise.

Dick looked back down upon the scene he had just left, already seeing the first few of the Pack arrive on the scene to scavenge their own dead. Dick shrugged his pack a little higher on his back and trudged up the hill with renewed vigor. He foresaw only three possible outcomes: 1) They figure out a way to save the planet, and everything goes back to how it was before, 2) They find a quiet place where they can become a self-sustaining colony, or 3) they all die.


	2. Ch 1: Travellers

A/N I really don't have a firm plan for the story yet, so unlike the majority of my stories where I have a firm plan, write half of it, get bored, and change subjects, I'm going to try to figure this out as I go. That being said, if you have any ideas for the path they take, let me know. I know where they're starting, and where they're ending, but not how they get there.

Don't own the Titans.

5 years later

Logan sat back to back with Rachel, looking out over the hills at the setting sun. He watched as it dipped lower and lower in the sky, casting a brilliant, gold, light across the landscape. It was a rare thing, to see something beautiful on the war-torn surface of the planet.

They had left Jump City 5 years ago on this exact day, beginning their trip westward towards California, where they had heard rumors about an isolated location where survivors were beginning to rebuild, creating an oasis of peace within desolation.

Logan looked back at Rachel, noting the auren* luster of her skin. He leaned back, giving her a quick kiss on the back of her neck. That was about all he could do without getting in trouble. Dick, in his irritatingly intelligent insight, had stopped Rachel and Logan before their wedding night. He told them they couldn't continue on, and that even Dick and Kori weren't going to go at it anymore (something they were famous for doing in many situations that made it awkward for everyone), because they didn't know how long this zombie apocalypse was going to last. In that time, they couldn't deal with either Kori or Rachel being pregnant, nor did anyone want to have to deal with infant children in combat.

Rachel turned around, rolling her eyes. She knew exactly what Logan was thinking about right now. Logan smiled sheepishly, reached around to give her a hug, before returning his gaze to the outside world. Logan hated guard duty, but Rachel had volunteered. He never let her do duty on her own. Vic, Dick, and Kori slept heavily at their feet, counting on the couple to keep their eyes open and on the surrounding environment, not on each other.

Logan glanced at the sky as a jet screamed overhead, military by the looks of it. A surprising amount of the military had survived The Day. Logan surmised that it was because they were out in the middle of who knows where and had no access to technology that would brainwash them, while Vic held fast to the belief that it was because the military was surrounded by non-civilian tech, and therefore wasn't hacked to transmit the brainwashing wave. Regardless of who was correct, a significant portion of the military was still kicking.

Logan stood up and waved at the plane, not because he was expecting them to get a ride (though he wouldn't have been opposed to that) but to let them know that this small gathering of homo sapiens were still intelligent, and that it would be a bad idea to drop a bomb on them, strafe them, or any other plan that involved the death of Logan, Rachel, Vic, Dick, and Kori.

Logan stood up and shouldered his weapon, opting to walk around camp for a few minutes just to quadruple check that everything was ok. He squandered the remainder of his guard duty walking around the encampment, teasing Rachel every time he passed by. She got him good a couple of times though, so the ended the evening calling it a draw. Soon enough, it was Vic and HAL's turn.

HAL was the robotic companion that Vic built. HAL had been built originally to be a pack mule (a bipedal pack mule, only slightly shorter than Vic himself, but a pack mule nonetheless), but after a few months of being bored with just tinkering with HAL's servos, he went ahead and installed an artificial intelligence into the device, giving it a snarky personality and an M2 Browning to help in combat. HAL itself didn't stand for anything, it was just named after the computer from 2001 A Space Odyssey.

Rachel and Logan retreated to their bed, letting Vic and HAL do their patrolling. Logan almost tripped over Dick's katana, but remembered to step over it at the last second. Dick had been super pissed last night when Logan had tripped on it, making a loud clatter and waking up the whole camp. Logan retreated back to bed and slept until the morning, wrapping his wife in his arms.

The group woke to the red dawn pouring over the horizon. A few things irritated them about their trip out west. For one, they had no map and were wandering west in a less than perfect line. For example, while following the westward movement of the sun religiously, the got from New York to Alabama. The second major problem was that they were always being royally screwed by the terrain.

Logan's eyes followed the ever rising Rocky Mountains in front of them.

"You're sure we have to go over that," he said, beginning to voice his alarm.

"Yes," Dick said simply, walking up behind Logan.

"Couldn't we at least go under it? There's got to be a mine around here somewhere."

"Yeah," Rachel said, "The entrance to Moria is that way." She pointed south.

"Oh come on," Logan protested, "It's been years since I've seen that movie. You're making obscure references again!" Rachel paused.

"It was a movie?" Vic and HAL barged in between them, ending their conversation.

"Yes, and it's also irrelevant. We have at least a three day hike to the bottom of the mountain range, let's get moving, shall we?" The team began walking, cursing their hearing as Rachel and Logan bickered about the validity of a movie in lieu of a book as far as learning material, a debate the carried out almost twice a day. Logan knew he was losing though, as Raven still carried around a few books and movies hadn't been made in who knows how long.

They walked all day through an eerily quiet forest, never shaking the feeling that they were being watched. However, HAL never saw anything on his thermal camera, so the assumed they were just jittery. The forest soon thinned and disappeared altogether. A burnt out, shell of a town stood before them, blackened buildings blending in to the fading light. HAL and Vic entered one of the two story buildings, checking it for both survivors and Pack. Finally, Vic waved the rest in.

They moved upstairs to set up camp for the night. Dick glanced out the window to one of the abandoned shops below.

"Calumet Drug Store," he read. "We'll check out the stores tomorrow, look for maps and supplies." The guard duty roster was handed out, Rachel and Logan getting the middle shift. Logan groaned internally. He fell asleep as quick as he could, wanting to get as much sleep as possible before his shift. This was hampered greatly by Kori and Dicks almost nightly escapades of everything but intercourse.

"Come on Gar, time to get up," Rachel shook Logan's sleeping form.

"Go away, I was actually having pleasant dreams for once."

"Gar, get up. We have to get up for guard duty. Come on, if you don't get up now I'll have no choice but let Vic wake you up." Logan had vivid memories about that.

"I'm up, I'm up!" He shot up in bed. Vic stood over him with a cup of something looking slightly disappointed. Rachel laughed softly. One of the good things about this whole apocalypse thing was that it had eliminated the need for Rachel to control her emotions constantly, and allowed herself a laugh now and then. Logan maintained the belief that Rachel's laughter was the most beautiful sound on the planet, but it wasn't something he talked about often.

Rachel gave him a quick hug and a peck on the cheek before rising and taking her post looking out the window. Her smile vanished. She motioned Logan over hastily. She pointed out the window. Four shadowy shapes moved along through the road, silently. They weren't in any formation so they obviously weren't military. Two carried rifles of some kind, but they were far from a ready position. They were either the worst survivors ever, or were Pack. The snarling noises coming from below confirmed their suspicions. The town was infected with Pack.

Raven stayed riveted to the window ever since she saw those first few. They were rarely in so small of groups. Logan had found a small box and had set up facing the stairs, ready to blast away the first person—or thing—that wandered up. Needless to say, even after their shift was over, they slept fitfully all night. Needless to say, morning couldn't come fast enough.

Glimmers of the morning sun began to climb over the horizon eventually, though. They had survived the night without incident. One person had stayed by the window the whole night, watching outside for more Pack. Dick was manning that post as the world slowly grew with ambient light. When the rest of the crew woke, all it took was one look at Dick's clenched jaw to realize the situation had worsened. Rachel maneuvered herself into the window. The streets swarmed like a Pack convention.

"Alright," Dick said, slowly. "Let's get downstairs. Quietly." The group tip toed their way down the stairs and out the back entrance, away from the Pack. They glanced down alleyways nervously, glad that the Pack hadn't caught on to their presence yet.

Slowly, they moved through the town. There were a few heart-stopping moments where a Pack Member would turn their head and look at the group before deeming them non-hostile, or when Kori knocked over a small stack of cans, creating a loud racket.

Dick approached a corner, visibly tightening with apprehension. They were on the edge of the town, and a large gathering of Pack cluttered the path between them and the Rockies. He swore under his breath. He looked around, hoping to find a path around the Pack, if possible. Or through, but he'd need to get through them really fast if that was his goal. Wait a minute, fast? That was possible if they went back a ways. Dick looked back, behind the Titans. _Yes! I wasn't going crazy!_

A few hundred feet to their rear, an abandoned SUV sat in a wrecked Gas Station. They made their way to it slowly, making sure not to draw any attention. Dick was the first person there, and slid into the driver's seat. The fuel gauge read a little over three-quarters full. The Titans all piled in, eager to be moving in a manner that didn't involve feet. HAL grabbed on tight to the top, unable to fit his bulky, inflexible frame inside the doorframe. Dick hotwired the engine, pushing his foot to the floor.

"Let's roll."

*auren is a word my sister made up based off the Latin word for gold. She uses it for her email, but I like it, so I decided to put in here.

Please don't take this as me preaching for abstinence or anything, I just thought that it seemed like a logical decision to make, at least in their situation.

I tried to make the relationships in here as realistic as possible. I knew I wanted to have one of the two out of wedlock, and I found it impossible to see Raven/Rachel in a very promiscuous relationship without being married, while I found it easier to accept that Starfire/Kori would be more given to that kind of thing. Hence, the relationships they have. I do admit to maybe going overboard with stereotyping the relationship styles.

Don't expect me to update as often as I am right now, as spring break is winding down soon.

Double points if you find the reference to a fun (albeit not fantastic) movie from the mid 80s.


	3. Ch 2: The Rockies Pt 1

As I said, spring break is over. Alas, school must come first in priority. I spent the last week doing surprisingly well on my History and Chemistry tests, and then going on an FTX (field training exercise) with my ROTC battalion. It sucked. Rained the whole time, and was constantly ruck marching up and down steep hills.

On a continuity note, I made some errors in the last chapter. It says they went directly from Jump City to Alabama, and that's incorrect. It's supposed to be Colorado, and they were wandering up and down the East Coast for a while before they started going west.

On a positive note, I picked up Crysis 2 Monday, March 28 and it's freaking beautiful. Other than writing, I know how I'm going to spend my free time.

It was a sheer miracle that they were all able to fit inside the vehicle, with their loads of extra weaponry and ammunition. Nevertheless, they managed to achieve this feat with a surprising amount of comfort… until the car started moving.

Dick was by no means a bad driver, but the road was also nowhere near clean. The SUV bounced over potholes, debris, and bodies of the Pack.

Logan clutched at where his arm had been crushed between Vic's heavy body and the seat, cursing under his breath.

"Hey Dick, can you go back? You missed a pothole," Logan said, jostling around in the backseat.

"Oh shut up. Just watch and make sure that they— oh shit! 2 o'clock! Shoot him!" Everyone's eyes snapped to 2 o'clock, looking for the threat. Kori saw him first, an extremely large pack member wielding two RPGs. Her SCAR snapped up, shattering the window and ripping apart the concrete near the Pack. She made a last minute adjustment to her position, squeezing the trigger again. Flame licked at the car, scorching the paint job on the passenger door. The rounds walked across the Pack member chest, sending the RPGs soaring over the vehicle. Kori calmly inserted a fresh magazine. All six exchanged high fives.

"Alright, now all we have to do is drive a little bit further and not get caught by any surprises," Logan announced, leaning back and relaxing. Dick did a double take.

"You had to say it, didn't you? Behind us!" Logan turned, and almost burst out laughing. His eyes beheld the most idiotic sight he had ever seen: the world's deadliest minivan. The van was overloaded with Pack, who were hanging out the side doors, flailing their weapons wildly. It was truly comical until the Pack started shooting.

Logan, Vic, and Rachel spun around in their seats, and returned fire. Vic's 240B deafened all organics in the area, but proved ruthlessly efficient. Tracers ate their way into the Pack vehicle, ripping apart the zombies and shredding the car, piece by piece. HAL opened up with the M2 from above, ripping of large chunks of the vehicle off. The sustained fire made the vehicle look like it was melting as it advanced. Rachel fired short bursts eliminating single targets, slowly eating away at the numbers of the pursuers. Logan pulled out his dual Glock 18s, hosing down the vehicle behind them.

"How is that vehicle still functioning?" Rachel screamed over the racket.

"No idea." Logan slapped a mag back into the Glock 18, took careful aim, and littered the floor with spent brass. A Pack member fell out of the vehicle with numerous holes in the chest, only to be crushed to goo by the rear tires.

"Keep shooting!" Dick yelled, weaving back and forth to avoid the potholes. Vic nudged his 240 a slight bit to the side, cutting the driver down.

"Yeah! How's my driving now?" The SUV lurched as the van slammed into the back of the survivor's car.

"Their gas pedal must be jammed forward, can't you drive any faster?" Vic yelled at Dick.

"Not if you want to stay in one piece!" Vic turned back and fired two more rounds. His mag was empty.

"You've got to be kidding me!" Logan jumped over the backseat into the trunk of the car with his Glock. He leaned out the back window, spraying the van with bullets. He dropped to the floor to avoid the rounds that were returned by the Pack. Logan took inventory of what was available in the back, grabbing a bag of canned goods, hoping it would be enough. He reloaded, gave himself covering fire and reached out the back window again, tossing the bag onto the ground. The van's tires slammed into the cans, slowing down the vehicle for a few moments. Logan reached up, grabbed his M4 and readied his grenade launcher.

"Get down!" He depressed the trigger on his M320, sending 40mm grenade to the rear. The impact split the van apart at the seams, the ensuing fireball sent shrapnel out of sight. An inferno raged over the body of the vehicle as it rolled and tumbled its way through deceleration. The vehicle plowed into the ground repeatedly, only to be tossed end over end. Each impact dug a deep trough in the ground, flinging dirt in all directions. A hearty cheer arose from the six in the SUV. Logan slumped back down in his seat.

"Why do they have to be smart zombies? Why can't they be dumb ones like in the movies?" he queried to no one in particular.

"Since when are things like the movies?" Rachel responded rhetorically.

The group enjoyed the drive, savoring every foot that they didn't have to walk. The scenery blurred together in a green/grayish haze, zipping past the windows at a speed far higher than any of them had traveled in a good long while. More than one of the group dozed off as the SUV whizzed along the road, finally past the majority of the potholes. Time and distance blended together as the setting blurred and faded into the distance behind them.

Logan's head snapped forward as the vehicle bounced to a stop.

"We're here!" Dick cheerily announced.

"Where's here?" Vic asked groggily, waking up from his nap.

"The furthest distance we can go. The car ran out of gas."

"Great," Kori said sarcastically, rolling her eyes. "And here I was thinking that I could not walk for a bit." Logan eased himself out of the car, reluctant to use his feet again. He instantly noticed the uphill grade of the road. Dick headed off his thought process.

"We are somewhere on the uphill side of the Rockies, other than that, I don't know where we are."

"Fantastic." HAL's electronically sarcastic voice came from the roof of the SUV. "I was wanting to get all my joints filled with dirt again." Vic helped HAL down while the organics stretched their legs. Everyone retrieved their rucksacks from the trunk of the car, and started off into the woods. It hadn't taken the survivors long to realize that the Pack preferred the easiest route, and therefore traveled on roads frequently.

They were travelling—on foot—through the mountains. That alone should describe the terrain. It didn't take long at all before the steep hills and loose rocks had caused their legs and feet to grow weary. Very soon, everyone (except Vic and HAL) had a deep burn in their legs from the intense hike. There was an undeniably stark—and disagreeable—contrast from the dizzying speeds of the car to the arduously slow pace of the ruck march.

They all hated the climbing up steep, but they moved out wordlessly embracing the suck. Nevertheless, they were almost overjoyed when Dick called for a breather, halfway down one of the hills. Logan dropped into the rucksack flop, noting for the first time the chilly wind that was beginning to stir. Kori sniffed at the air.

"Storm is coming this way," she stated simply.

"Come on everyone, let's get moving again." Dick helped everyone to their feet, obviously exhausted himself. The organic quartet and metallic duo once again began moving west, hoping to find a nice place to hole up for the night.

A few drops began to fall from the sky, promising to the group that the night was going to be miserable. All too soon, the slight drizzle became a downpour. Soaked and miserable, Logan trudged up the hill, trying to catch up with his comrades. He glanced down the hill to look for them. Any hope that the night was going to be partially pleasant vanished instantly.

"Where the hell did they go?" he murmured to himself. He unslung his shotgun, hardly able to see in this torrential rain. Logan took a step forward, instantly loosing footing in the mud. Logan fell backwards and slid to the bottom of the hill in a loud, ungraceful tumble. He reached the bottom, cursing everything above and below. He was grateful he had his weapons tied to himself, or he surely would have lost them then. He stood up, covered head to toe in mud and water. He regripped the pump of his 12 gauge, now slick with mud.

Logan froze. He was sure he heard something snap behind him. He turned slowly towards the noise, cautiously bringing up his weapon. Two more twigs broke under the weight of some… thing.

"This just isn't my day," he muttered, crouching down to the ground. Logan dropped his ruck to the ground, readying himself for a fight. He sat there listening for a few seconds as more branches broke. Water ran off his forehead, obscuring the front sight. The constant patter of rain splashed against the weapon, casting tiny droplets into his line of sight. His finger slipped slightly on the mud and rain as he clicked the safety off.

In case you were wondering, this situation is partly inspired by the recent FTX.

I originally intended for the Titans to mow down Pack with their guns as they drove out of town, but I decided that this would be a good way to begin to show how smart the Pack are.

Yes I know Kori isn't the same bubbly personality she used to be, but I thought that years of fighting off zombies would have a psychological impact on all of them.

You may also be noticing that there's not a whole lot of sense as to when the Pack attack or not. That's because I haven't quite figured out their habits/mannerisms yet.


	4. Ch 3: The Rockies Pt 2

For some reason, this website keeps deleting the hyphens that I am putting into the text. So from now on I'll be using stars for section breaks, instead of hyphens. If it takes those out also, I'm going to be pissed.

Sorry for the delay in this update, I'm barely squeezing it in before finals, but I wanted to get the cliffhanger resolved before I forget about it.

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"_This just isn't my day," he muttered, crouching down to the ground. Logan dropped his ruck to the ground, readying himself for a fight. He sat there listening for a few seconds as more branches broke. Water ran off his forehead, obscuring the front sight. The constant patter of rain splashed against the weapon, casting tiny droplets into his line of sight. His finger slipped slightly on the mud and rain as he clicked the safety off._

Logan stared hard at the foliage, looking for movement; hoping, praying it wasn't hostile. More branches broke, leaves shuffled back and forth from the movement of feet. His vision snapped to a dark object, hurtling out of the brush. He swung the shotgun over automatically, and pulled the trigger out of instinct. The 12 gauge round tore asunder the darkness, illuminating the scene in the harsh reddish flash of a firearm. The glow illuminated both the large rock that Logan had just fired at, and the figure leaping out of the darkness.

Logan and the figure crashed into the mud, and slid back a few feet from pure momentum. Logan punched the figure in the face, causing it to reel back long enough for Logan to regain his footing. He pumped the gun, bringing it to bear on his opponent. The man charged forward and batted it aside as it went off, sending the buckshot harmlessly into the forest. Metal glinted in the shadow's hand, slashing away at Logan. Logan's vest caught the blade, sending it up and across the sling. Logan smashed the man's head with the butt of the shotgun, only causing the figure to stumble back. The figure paused, and put a hand to his head. He dabbed it a few times, and pulled his hand down to see the blood.

"You'll wish you hadn't done that," he said. The man regripped his knife, Logan pumped the shotgun.

The weapon was batted away as it was fired, knocked a few feet from where Logan stood. The man dropped his shoulder and slammed Logan to the ground, knocking the wind out of him. The man straddled Logan, pinning his left shoulder to the ground with his knife. The figure reached behind him for another knife, temporarily looking away from Logan. Logan dug into his pocket, retrieving a folder. He clicked it open, and slashed it across the man's thigh, puncturing the artery. The shadow looked back at Logan, shocked.

"Why you little-"

The man raised up a cleaver, trying to split Logan's head in two. The heavy blade stuck deep in the mud. Logan stuck his knife in the man's chest, pulled the large knife from his shoulder, and slashed the figure's neck.

Logan tossed the corpse off of him, and fell asleep, exhausted from combat.

Hours later, Logan awoke. The rain had stopped, and the sun was beaming through the canopy in a few select places. He blinked a few times, slowly taking stock of his injuries. Let's see, knife hole in shoulder, bruised back, bruised chest, bruised ego… so far no broken bones. Awesome. He picked himself up, and walked over to where his shotgun lay, retrieving it and strapping it to his ruck. He went back to the corpse, rolled it over, hoping to find ID, maps, anything. He could tell from the fact that he spoke coherently and fought tactically that this man was a survivor, and not a Pack member. He probably was in a gang too, which meant he was in gang territory, which meant his friends were in gang territory, and therefore they all were in danger.

Logan did an EPW (Enemy Prisoner of War) search on the downed figure. He found few, albeit important, things. He found a tattoo with the gang sign on it, a snake coiled into a peculiar shape. In one pocket, he found a map of the area. Finally, he found an ID card, and a slip of paper with numbers on it. Finding these items, he grabbed his ruck and moved onward, hoping to get to his friends in time.

Logan worked his way through the terrain at a decent clip, but not at a lighting speed. His main goal was to catch up to his friends, not to set land-speed records.

Logan swore loudly as he slipped down the mountain. He skid face-first into a tree, which was placed in a quite inconvenient location. Logan picked himself up, rubbing at his face. He froze.

Mere feet away, a deactivated HAL lay slumped over in the bushes. Looking around, Logan spied bullet holes marring the trees, burnt shrubbery, spent casings, and other signs of a brief conflict. Logan dashed over to HAL, hoping to reactivate the robot.

Logan couldn't roll the ungodly heavy robot over to look on the back for an on/off switch, and no such apparatus existed on the front. Logan spun around, sure he had heard a twig snap. He stay tense for a few moments, and satisfied that the noise was nothing serious, he pulled out the map he had taken from the gang member.

He took a few moments to orient himself, before he located himself on the map. He estimated the distance and direction towards the gang base—as he surmised that his friends were most likely being held there. He could then get Vic to come back here and reactivate HAL.

He set out at a fast past, moving up and down hills at a blistering speed. His head scanned left and right constantly, following overturned leaves, rocks, or broken twigs. He had just about given up his search, when he came across a road leading perpendicular to the slope, further into the mountain.

Tracks pitted the muddy pathway, digging a deep trough in the middle. Logan followed the path inwards, towards the center of the mountain, careful to keep an eye out for movement along the roads.

He walked for a few hours before he found what he was looking for. The path disappeared into a metal door embedded into the side of the mountain. Logan ditched his rucksack off the side of the road, camouflaging it with sticks, leaves, and other foliage. Logan took a deep breath, and walked up to the door.

Logan grabbed his ID card and swiped it at a pad nearby the door frame. A soft beep sounded, and a green light snapped on. The door unlocked with a loud click. He opened the door carefully, easing himself inside. He was greeted with grey concrete hallways, metal gratings, and fluorescent lights. His footsteps echoed quite clearly as he moved down the long corridor to the metal door further inside.

Logan stopped at the doorway, a small keypad mere inches off to the left of the doorframe. He withdrew the scrap of paper that held the scribbled numbers, and punched them into the keypad. The door swung open silently upon the completion of the code. He walked inside like an invited guest.

Logan played cat-and-mouse for nearly an eternity. He moved through the underground compound quite a bit, retreating upon hearing approaching footsteps. The Janitors' closets became his best friend, as they were frequently unlocked. He overheard plenty of conversations, most irrelevant.

"So, I see you went and bought the new sidearm."

"How's your wife doing?"

"I can't wait for that banquet next week. Free food."

"Hollow point? I'm a full metal jacket person, myself. More penetration."

Logan had to walk for hours before he heard something useful.

"So, did you see that group of four that came in earlier?"

"Yeah, good fighters from what I heard."

"What do you think Boss will do with them?"

"Don't know, don't care. He might release them for sport, or just torture them until they die. Or make them his playthings. Those females were pretty fine if you ask me."

"I'd take the quiet one, personally."

"Are you crazy, that fiery redhead is where its at!"

"No, it's the quiet ones that are the best." Logan couldn't hear anymore after that, he was grinding his teeth too hard. He followed them a ways, and the eventually led him to the jail cells. Those guards were planning on proving their point to the other.

"Come here, we'll do the quiet one first. I'll prove my point, for sure." The guard laughed as they opened Rachel's cell door. A crack was heard as the second guard spoke.

"Bitch, did I say you could get up? Try that again and I'll hit you harder. Now get up. Come over here." Logan lost his mind. He snapped his Glock 18s up, and ran around the corner. One of them looked back, realization flickering across his face. Logan squeezed the trigger.

Blood blossomed on the walls of the narrow cell. Logan looked over at his shell-shocked wife.

"Are you alright?" He asked her tenderly.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I, I, I… thanks."

"Hey, it's what I do," Logan grinned cockily. Alarms blared, pulling Logan out of his trance. Obviously someone had heard the gunfire and alerted the base. Logan looked back at Rachel, who had already taken one of the guards' G36 rifles.

"What are we waiting for? Let's go get the others!"


	5. Ch 4: Finsternis

School is over (for now), and I have had a few weeks of break. Now I have about a week and a half before I head off to Beast Barracks (West Point basic training). I know the story seemed a little rushed in the last chapter (because it was), but oh well. Live and learn, hopefully this will turn out a little better.

For you gamers out there, I found a few songs people made that make life awesome when playing the song and the game simultaneously. Enjoy:

Halo .com/watch?v=o2tCdIYeenM&feature=player_embedded

CoD Black Ops .com/watch?v=HeuoQ58YeLs

Mass Effect .com/watch?v=DHseWNr7iKk

In a sort of related note, I had Cod Black Ops/Mass Effect 2/Assassins Creed Brotherhood/CoD Modern Warfare stolen from me as I left campus. Whatevs. I'm out of Marion, AL!

Chapter title is "finsternis" the German word for "eclipse," which is the name of the gang they ran into.

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The two worked their ways through tunnels and corridors silently, looking for a place to plan and coordinate. Logan noticed a darkened room and motioned Rachel inside. Rachel cautiously stepped in, carefully easing her weight onto the floor to avoid any unwanted creaks or groans. Satisfied that the floor was sturdy enough, she settled her full weight on the tiling, and searched the room while Logan remained in the doorway, watching for angry gang members. During the alarm a few young punks dashed in front of the door, but were too busy running with all speed to their designated post that they past the barely noticeable duo without incident.

Rachel tread lightly within the room, gently laying her toes on the ground first, before carefully rolling the rest of her foot down silently. Through the darkness, Rachel's sharp eyes caught piles of rusty metal poles leaning up against one wall, in an extremely disorganized manner. Grease stained the walls, paint peeled off the ceiling, a large metal box stood in a corner, one shelf pulled out. Rough, chipped, and pitted tile covered the floor, the remnants of some bathroom project elsewhere. Rachel returned to Logan.

"Come in, it's an empty storeroom." Logan shut the door silently. Just having the door between them and that infuriatingly loud alarm was comfort. Logan turned to Rachel, and said half-expectantly:

"So, what's the plan?" Rachel guffawed.

"Up until now my plan has been surviving. I haven't exactly planned escape yet."

"But, you've always been the one with the plan," Logan emphasized the last five words with an almost mocking, exaggerated tone.

"Hey, I don't like your tone."

"You don't have to! All you have to do is brainstorm!"

"That'd be great! If only I magically knew where they all were!" Rachel snapped at Logan, wriggling her fingers when he said 'magically' like an evil wizard.

"Hey, I risked my life to get you out of prison," Logan began to protest.

"Congratulations, you performed the bare minimum expected of a husband. Do you want a gold star?" Logan snapped his mouth shut, before coming up with a rather stiff reply.

"You know what, here's a plan. We both walk out the door, and we walk separate ways. We fight everything until we free our team. We'll meet up again here in a day. Now if you'll excuse me, your lordship." Logan gave a mock bow. Logan scrambled from corridor to corridor, muttering about the infuriating (but also seductively attractive) ways of women.

Rachel sat still for a few more moments, seething and cursing all the ways of men. As Logan's footsteps slowly faded away, the only sound in the enveloping silence was the murmur of Rachel grinding her teeth together, in essence symbolizing their relationship. Two forces, both pushing on each other relentlessly; both sides constantly vying for position as "the immovable set of teeth."

Someone in the past had coined the phrase "an unstoppable force meets an immovable object." Rachel had often pondered that phrase, and had come to the conclusion that the phrase is physically impossible. One has to stop or move, neither can be both moving nor stopped at the same time while retaining the basic traits described. One of the forces has to be lesser—even if in an infinitesimally small manner—in order for physics to apply to the situation. As far as between Logan and herself, neither knew which had greater or lesser force… yet.

She rose to her feet slowly, as if dragged down by a great burden. Peering carefully into the passage, she opted to take the route opposite of Logan's, and hoped for the best. Having forgotten about the alarm during their "debate," she was somewhat taken back by the blaring klaxon and hotly illuminated hallways. She moved quickly across the open spaces, trying to stay in darker areas where the extra light provided by emergency bulbs couldn't reach. She failed, most of the time and was forced to move speedily through the hallways, always on the lookout for cameras and/or people.

Booming footsteps sounded down one of the side passages, as if a great host of iron-shod men all decided to sprint up a hollow, steel, plank simultaneously. Rachel glanced around the passageway looking for a place to hide. She disappeared into the dark under a ladder, in such a location that she was invisible to the naked eye. If anyone had a flashlight, however, she would surely be discovered.

The group emerged into the hallway, led by a brutish man who barked orders and growled threats. More than three scars framed his face, while a significant portion looked like it had been burned severely. Blood ran down his forehead from a cut above the left eyebrow. While the entire group wore the same approximate uniform (boots, black body armor, brown pants, and tan T-shirt) he bore a strange emblem on each shoulder, consisting of concentric black circles with red slashes and an ill-fitting purple brown cap.

"Find the prisoners," He barked, "find them. Do whatever it takes, use whatever weapon or tool you need. But bring them to me, alive or dead."

Rachel readied the G36 she had taken earlier, fervently praying she wouldn't have to use it. She only had one extra mag, and that couldn't take down even half of the swarm of hostile entities in front of her.

The group split up and moved about, with the leader continuing his trend of short-temper and harsh reactions. As the horrendously disfigured man move from group to group, punching and kicking at will, the chance of Raven's survival grew with each second as the "officer" (if he could even be called that) moved further and further away. Rachel finally breathed a sigh of relief.

She ventured out from the alcove, and scrambled up the ladder, hoping to gain some vertical and horizontal distance from the hunter-killer team. She moved through the halls at quite the speed, having to worry less about noise she was making while the alarm was active. She moved from outpost to outpost, trying to listen in on conversations to get an understanding of the layout of the base and to attempt to overhear where her friends where being held captive.

Rounding the next corner, she found the next best thing: An unattended computer terminal that could hopefully reveal the same information. She moved up to it, and lay her weapon on the table at the side. She tapped away furiously for a few minutes, glancing around behind her when she remembered. It took her longer than she expected to get through the firewalls. Either she was out of practice, or this ragtag gang was more sophisticated than they looked. Or both.

Finally through the security, she quickly found the information she was looking for. She paused before logging out. She tapped a few more keystrokes in, and hit enter. The alarms shut off.

"Much better, I thought my ears were about to fall off." Rachel spun, not expecting a voice right behind her. A member of the hunter-killer team stood behind her, shotgun at the ready. Rachel glanced at her rifle, knowing there was no way she could get it and a shot off before being cut down by buckshot.

"Alright, you caught me. Where do I go?" Rachel said coolly, though internally furious at herself for letting this amateur—Jesse, judging from his name tag—sneak up on her.

"It's not a matter of where you go, but what my higher ups want," he said. He tapped his radio, "Stern, I got one of the saboteurs here. What should I do with her? Really? Ok." Jesse looked at Rachel with an odd grin.

"That's… creepy."

"I thought I should just say I fully enjoy this." Jesse snapped the safety off. Rachel shut her eyes as a roaring blast assaulted her ears. She glanced down, noting in horror that her midsection was a crimson mess.


	6. Author's Note: Story will continue soon

Apologies to everyone who has been faithfully waiting for an update, there hasn't been one recently (as you may have noticed). I just started the academic year at West Point, so I've been busy (up until now) with issue points, basic training, etc. Hopefully I'll get some time in the next few weeks to keep posting. It won't be very frequent, but I'll do my best.

~K


	7. Ch 5: Escape and Evasion

Hey everyone. I know I just posted something saying that there wasn't going to be an update for a while. Well, the weekend came around and I felt I owed you guys an update, especially considering the cliffhanger I left you on.

So far, life's going good at USMA (food, internet, and all other aspects of life are good.) Plebe year (Freshmen, a reference to the Plebians, or the lowest class of ancient Roman citizenry), isn't like most colleges freshmen year. There's a gauntlet that we have to run to make it to the First Sgt to report for duty. Mostly it involves pushups and reciting knowledge… stuff we had to learn for our basic training. Stuff like Schofield's definition of discipline (a paragraph long), The Days, Army Blue, National Anthem (There are two verses that nobody sings except us, apparently), How is the Cow, Definition of Leather, 9-line medevac, ect. After that, there are other rules you have to abide by. Like you can't talk outside your room, or you have to cup your hands (make your hands into fists) whenever you walk somewhere. So yup, that's Plebe Year in a nutshell. If you have any questions, just send me a message. It's kind of confusing, I know. Anyways, I know you aren't here to read my random bursts of information about something that doesn't pertain to you. Here's the chapter!

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Rachel's hands shot to her midsection, grasping her red-stained clothing. She could feel the blood working its way through her fingers on the left side of her body, at a rate she was uncomfortable with. Her head jerked back up as she heard the unmistakable double click when a shotgun is reloaded.

"That's what it feels like. Now imagine that pain… just multiplied by one thousand. Your death will be a painful one, for sure." He leveled the shotgun at her head.

"Say goodbye," Jesse chuckled with a sickening grin.

"Hey!" Jesse spun in place to respond to the shout right behind him, pulling the trigger instinctually, filling the empty space behind him with fire and metal. He pumped the shotgun again, tossing a smoking, red casing to the floor. The 'clink' of cartridge echoed around in the empty concrete corridor. He stepped carefully into the doorway, peering down the hall. He snapped his body back behind cover when he saw a muzzle flash halfway down the concrete tunnel. Rachel and Jesse were showered with concrete particles as the bullet impacts cracked the concrete and sent it spurting in all directions.

"You might not want to do that! I don't think your companion responds well to bullets. And trust me, I've already tried. She could bleed out at any time, and I'm the only one able to help her."

"Why don't you show your head again, so we can discuss the specifics of her wounds?" Rachel recognized Logan's voice.

"Oh I don't think so. Maybe you'd like to walk straight towards me so I know you sincerely want to help her. Could you do that for me?" Logan fired off a few rounds in response, and darted a few yards closer, still staying behind a wall.

"Sorry, but that's unlikely. You wouldn't mind, oh I don't know, coming out here to fight me hand to hand, would you?"

"Come out there? Yeah, sure. Just go ahead and put down your weapons, and then I'll come out. Unarmed. I promise." Logan fired off a burst from his rifle, rushing the last few meters to the doorway.

"Alright, I'm putting down my weapon now." Logan dropped his rifle to the floor, and drew his pistol. Jesse jumped through the door and swung to fire the 12 gauge directly into Logan's chest. Logan jumped forward, pushing the barrel out of the way with his hands. Logan swung the pistol up, firing at Jesse's head. The bullet bounced off the top of his head, filling the air with a mix of bone, blood, and concrete. Jesse reeled backwards from the impact, smacking up against the concrete wall. Logan snapped the first round in between his eyes, painting the wall with a mix of red and white; the next six rounds slammed into the upper chest, puncturing vital organs multiple times. Jesse collapsed against the wall, lifeless. Logan slapped new magazine in both his pistol and rifle, before charging inside the room to help out Rachel.

Rachel was sitting on the ground, actively working to stop the bleeding. She had torn off here sleeves, and was using them to apply pressure to the wound, by wrapping them around her stomach tightly. Logan dropped to a knee next to her, and tried to help. She batted him away like an irritating fly, still intently focused on the task at hand. Logan sat by nervously while she worked. A few minutes later, she leaned back against the computer table, breathing out heavily.

"Are you ok?" The anxiety in Logan's voice was quite apparent.

"Yeah, I'm fine. The blast just grazed me. Lots of blood, very little damage."

"Can you walk?"

"Yeah, I can."

"Great, that means we can still keep looking for the others. I don't have to stop and get you to a safe place."

"I'm glad you're so concerned for my well-being," Rachel said sarcastically. Logan chose to ignore the comment, not really sure how to respond in the first place. Rachel reached up and grabbed her e, ready to get back to work. Logan grabbed her rifle with a firm grip, not allowing her to move it at all.

"Let go of my weapon," she said, shooting daggers at him with her eyes.

"You won't need that. I found your gear." Logan motioned to his back, which was slung with all of their equipment.

"You could have said so earlier," Rachel grumbled. The two ventured back into the halls, M4s at the ready. Rachel hugged the left side of the hall, Logan stuck to the right.

"Hey, do you know where to go?" Logan whispered across.

"Yeah, I got a chance to look at the layout when I was working on their computer. The rest of the prison cells are this way. Unfortunately, we're going to have to go through their main operations center if we want to get out. That's where the door is." Logan rolled his eyes.

"Fantastic." The pair worked their way through the base, diving into trash cans, dark corners, and other random places quite frequently in order to avoid the guards who rushed through the halls in a vain attempt to find the intruders.

After walking miles of passageways, they had finally arrived at the entrance to the prison cells. Logan carefully peered around the corner towards the security checkpoint. The place was extremely well defended… from an attack by the prisoners. Barricades, machine guns, and all manner of killing devices were pointed down the long corridor that housed the prisoners, with very few aiming towards the entrance. Logan consulted with Rachel, quickly devising a plan of attack. Rachel shot down most of his ideas, usually coming up with something better, even if it was just a tweak on his plan. As long she didn't take credit for the plan (without citing him, of course) he had no problem with it as long as they got their friends free.

Logan lined himself up at the door in the proper location, Rachel assuming her proper position at the opposite side of the door. Finally set up in position, Logan had a much clearer view of the room within. The checkpoint was little more than a heavily reinforced barricade in the beginning of the wide hallway that was the prison. It was at least 20 feet wide and over 100 long, the first 20 of which was the checkpoint, the remainder had cell doors embedded into the wall. The barricade itself consisted of a lot of sheet metal, concrete, and other odds and ends that lay jumbled around in order to create an obstacle. Down the hallway itself, various wooden objects were strewn about to impede movement, but allow bullets to pass through and hit any hiding prisoner. This side of the barricade, 12 armed men stood around, a few manning the machine guns, most just leaning against the walls and smoking. Prison guard was considered the most menial job down there, because the prisoners never escaped, and when they did, they faced a wall of bullets and no way to fight back. Logan regripped his weapon, and pivoted around, swinging the muzzle through the doorway. A few guards noticed, and began to react.

Logan let loose his M320, dropping a 40mm grenade right on top of one of the machine gunner positions. The fragmentation cut down four of the men in the room instantly. Logan dropped back to reload, while Rachel swung out, letting loose with her M4. She cut down another three, sending the remaining five scrambling for cover on the other side of the barricade.

Logan swung back out while Rachel reloaded, dropping a grenade behind the checkpoint, dropping another two. The sharp report of the M4 signaled the fall of another gang member who was stupid enough to lift his head. The remaining two gang members fell back into the hallway, now a victim of their own trap. Rachel sprinted to a gun emplacement, and let loose with the belt of 7.62 ammunition, splintering their concealment to pieces, killing both of them with ease.

Logan sprinted down the hallway, looking from cell to cell to try and find his compatriots, while Rachel grabbed the two remaining machine guns and spun them around to face the entrance. She knew that they hadn't exactly been quiet, and were sure to get some company soon. She wasn't kept waiting long, right as she finished spinning around the second gun, troops started filing into the prison cell. Rachel snapped off the safety, and gleefully poured hot lead down upon them. Links and brass began to pile up by her right elbow.

Logan, hearing the report of the gunfire, hastened his quest considerably. His friends saw him first, and began shouting towards him, gaining Logan's attention quickly. He sprinted up to their cells, blasting the locks off with his shotgun, returning their weapons to them happily. He was most glad to get rid of Victor's 240B, it was just so unbelievably heavy.

"Let's go guys, Rachel could use some help." The group ran up to join Rachel eagerly. With their combined firepower, Finsternis didn't stand a chance. They were obliterated as soon as they stepped through the door. Logan and Kori worked their way towards the door, both tossing frag grenades in opposite directions. The reverberating blasts silenced everything in the halls. Kori carefully poked her head out, noting that the hallway was clear. She motioned for the rest to follow.

Rachel led the way towards the exit and the central command center. By now, what had been a relatively irritating intruder situation had turned into an all out war. More than one firefight erupted in the hallways as they moved closer towards the exit. And with every outburst of weapons fire, more people closed in on the team. Rachel held up one hand, signaling for the group to halt. She mouthed back,

"It's just around this corner." They nodded their understanding, and bunched up to "stack," on the door. Rachel went first, then Logan, Vic, Dick, and last of all Kori. Since Dick was the team leader, he dutifully toke his position, and put his girlfriend in the safest position. Logan likewise put his wife in the next safest position, and the two most dangerous spots were filled by Logan and Vic.

The team charged into the room, blasting at whatever moved. All of the computer geeks, communication experts, and guards were blasted into oblivion as the team moved towards the exit with all speed. Dick spotted someone dressed differently than all the others. He wore more colors, had a fancier hat. He took no time in leveling his weapon at the leader, and quickly snapped 3 rounds into his chest. The room was silent in under a minute.

"Is everyone good?" Dick called out. Each person responded with a resounding "yes," and the team ran out the exit. Logan grabbed the bag that he had left on the ground outside the base, fired a grenade back through the door, and disappeared into the woods with his team.


	8. Ch: 6 Fall From Grace

Ah, the calming times of Columbus Day Weekend. Not that calming, because I am putting off my American Politics paper, English Paper, and studying for the Am. Pol. test. And those are only the major graded events this week. So I am just pushing off studying. Good for me! Also, I am writing this, listening to purely Epic Rap Battles of History. This is awesome.

P.S., I know the robot Hal isn't very present in the story, but trust me has a significant impact towards the end. In fact, if I could go back in time and remove him from the story, I would. He's not developed at all, he's boring to write about, and even less interesting to read. I thought I would have needed him to be a known character for what I have planned later, but as I think about it, it wasn't necessary to have him known to the other characters. Oh well, live and learn.

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Breathless from sprinting into the forest, Robin halted the pack and took stock of their situation. The organics stood around in a circle, sucking in oxygen after fighting to maintain the deadly pace set by their robotic (and also unfazed) counterparts.

Each member took time to search their pack, making sure that they had what they needed. Unfortunately, the gang members had raided the packs of extra food, tents, and anything of value, especially ammunition. They were limited to the two or three magazines that remained on their vests.

Their spirits thoroughly dampened by this news, arguments instantly formed about what the next step to take should be.

"We need to get dry, this damp forest is rusting us into one solid mass," the synthesized voice boomed, trying to get his own two bits into the argument.

"Just get me somewhere that I can sleep," Logan's beleaguered voice barely made its presence known past his own nose.

"Hell yeah, I second the big metal man!" Vic chimed in.

"Everyone shut up, I am trying to think!" Dick yelled, making a cutting motion with his hand as if that would help the situation. Contrarily, it seemed to just enrage the, or at least one of them.

"And what was that for? Don't just try to silence us like that! This isn't a Dick-tatorship, we all need a say in what happens to us," Rachel said, gesturing violently with a pointing moment.

"Rachel, please. Do not shout." Kori stepped in between the arguing duo, speaking in an almost timid manner. "This is not the time or the place to shout."

"Listen, Little Miss Prissy, I'm not trying to cut into your "Make Out With Dick" time, but this is important," Raven's scathing remark (also accompanied by various hand gestures, all of which indicated irritation) caused Kori to take a step back.

"Hey, I don't take kindly to you treating my girlfriend like that," Dick quickly jumped in

"Cool. Why don't you grow a pair and do something about it, then," came back the venomous reply. Vic and Hal quickly physically separated the two, before an all-out brawl ensued.

"Chill out, guys. Y'all need to calm down and think!" Vic interjected.

"He is correct. I suggest some you both get sleep soon, you are exhausted." The synthesized speech quickly gave away the owner of the voice.

"No, I'm going to kill her!" Dick strained against Vic's iron embrace.

"No, you are going to sit down, now." Vic tossed Dick a few feet back; Dick rebounded off his heels and charged forward rapidly, halting at the barrel of Vic's handgun. "Sit the hell down." Dick backed up slowly, and cautiously sat down, rage still imprinted on his face.

"Screw you, man," Dick spat.

"Kori," Vic said slowly, as if he had to restrain himself at each and every word, "please come over here and talk some sense into your boyfriend. And Logan, please do the same to your wife."

20 minutes later, the spouse and girlfriend had worked on their lover enough so that there wouldn't be any immediate violence, but the tension was far from lifted. However, the fact that nobody was trying to kill each other meant that Vic could breathe a sigh of relief. Vic had unintentionally assumed the role of leader, as Dick had lost it. It wasn't Dick's fault, but years and years of being hunted by zombies starts to mess with your mental stability after a while.

"Look," the leader said, "Hal and I have a problem. We physically can't endure wet conditions for very long. Take a nap everyone, and we'll move out to the bottom of this mountain in about 30 minutes, where hopefully we'll find a flat spot where we can dry out? Ok? Now, go to sleep. Nobody needed a second opinion, all the organics promptly went to sleep.

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30 minutes turned rapidly into 2 hours, but despite the extra sleep, nobody felt invigorated by their little nap. On the contrary, some felt more sluggish than before. Somehow, Vic managed to assemble them into some semblance of a formation, and moving down the mountain at a somewhat speedy pace.

Paces blurred together as the miles rolled past, each one seeming longer than the last. The distance wore into everyone, muscles (and pneumatic actuators) fluctuated from excruciating pain to numbness, bone and metal wore down from repeated impacts with the ground, eyes grew heavy, tired of constantly observing the boundaries for danger.

Time had stopped existing a long time ago. Each step blended together, making things go by quickly, but each step dragged on forever making time impossible to judge. Distance, however, was painfully measured with each step. Eventually, the tortuous slope leveled off into something more kind. Flat ground opened up in front of them, as the forest and mountain faded away.

Worn out, each person dripped their rucksack on the ground quickly, and made themselves beds in a quick, feasible manner. All 6 dropped asleep (or to power saver mode) as fast as possible, entirely drained from the procedure.

Kori woke first, eyelids fluttering trying in vain to shut out the blinding morning light that was peeking over the mountains. She lay there for a few more seconds, slowly realized that they had survived the entire night without posting a guard. That was extremely lucky. She rose up, planting her hands firmly on the ground, stretching her back.

She pulled her stiff body up, taking a knee before standing erect. Kori leaned over and scooped up her rifle before walking over to the edge of the bivouac. She leaned up against the tree with a sigh. She took a deep breath of the crisp morning and shook her head, trying to lose the last bit off sleepiness. Finally convinced that she was fully awake, she went back to wake the others.

She first woke Vic, as he was the undeniable leader now, then went on to wake Dick. Vic woke up the rest, starting with Hal. Despite the nice sleep, it was undeniable that the forced march had taken its toll on all of them, and Vic knew he had to find a town nearby that had some sort of vehicle. Otherwise, they would never make it out west.

"Alright guys, time to get up. We still have no food, so we have to find animal to kill and cook or find a village nearby with food, and hopefully a vehicle. How are you holding up from last night?"

"I am doing fine," Kori said quietly.

"I will endure," Hal's synthesizer stood out quite clearly from the natural surroundings.

"I'm good," Logan spoke out.

"I'll be fine, but the bitch won't be able to keep up," Dick motioned at Rachel. Logan snapped a pistol out, and took aim at Dick's upper torso. "Go ahead, little man. You don't have the guts."

Logan's eyes narrowed, his finger pulling out all of the slack in the trigger. He felt the hand of Rachel pushing his arm down and away. He slowly and carefully released the trigger, but his eyes never left Dick. Vic let out a nervous laugh.

"Well, now that we have all the pleasantries out of the way, what say you to get back to work?" The team slowly stood up on their sore feet, moving over to once again don their rucksacks. Logan dug his hand deep inside his ruck, searching for something, any kind of food that the gang members hadn't taken. His search found nothing. He hungrily pawed at the side pockets as well, his stomach growling with ever more intensity. Finding nothing, he did a quick glance around, trying to find food. Apparently, all the others were doing similar things, but no food had been found in any bags or in their immediate area.

Still starving, he stood up and dutifully joined the others.

"If I remember the map right," Vic was saying, "There should be an airfield relatively close, a bit northwest of here. We can hop on one of those, and zip out west where there is rumored to be a zombie-free area."

The tension was still strong between Dick and the others, which had slowed down the preparation time considerably. Vic made sure to put Dick on the outside edge of the formation, and put Kori between him and everyone else. Hopefully that would stave off gunfire within the formation itself.

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After a day and a half of pure walking, without any food at all, they finally reached their destination, an abandoned airfield. Logan scouted the area rapidly, and quickly brought the others down to the airfield. They took off in a beeline for the old, rusted out hanger, hoping to find a plane inside.

Within, they found what they were looking for. An old, beat up prop plane, with plenty of room for all of them, as long as they disassembled HAL. Logan sent Vic to check out the engine in order to ensure that everything was operational, and sent the others to scout out the area. He didn't want any surprises while trying to get in the air. Dick and Kori took off east, while Logan and Rachel headed west.

Dick used his magnified scope to his advantage, scouring the landscape for any signs of movement before changing his position. Kori didn't have that luxury, so she waited for the "all clear" sign from Dick before moving up. Their progress was slow, but thorough and safe. There were a few cases of zombified people roaming around in the hilly woods, but not a terribly large amount. They did locate an old town that used to contain humans, but was currently ruled by the nearest zombie king. Their excursion located no major weapons, but a significant number of zombies, most of whom were in the nearby town.

Logan moved through the landscape rapidly, hoping that his use of speed and position would erase any minor mistakes made. He and Rachel moved rapidly from cover to cover, doing a rapid but careful surveillance before each movement. They stayed about three-quarters of the way up the hill, in order to get a good shot at anyone travelling below them. Their expedition located almost nobody, either human or zombie. They set off back towards camp after walking for about an hour.

Dick arrived back at the airstrip first, pausing before descending. He ducked down into the bushes and took off uphill rapidly, disappearing into the brush. Kori lost sight of him when he dove into the bushes. Thinking he spotted something, she moved incredibly slowly down towards the plane, all senses on high alert.

Dick set himself into a good prone supported position, carefully taking aim past the airport and onto the opposite slope. He saw a quick blur of movement, and carefully sighted in on Logan.

Logan pulled his advance to an abrupt halt behind a large tree. He leaned partially out, choosing his next piece of cover. He glanced over his shoulder to see if Rachel was in place. She gave him a thumbs up. He leaned forward a fraction, coiling up his muscles for a short sprint. Before he could fully leap from cover, the tree behind him exploded into a thousand shards of wood, surprising and tripping Logan. He slammed against the ground, and started rolling away as the ground beneath him erupted in plumes of dirt, coating him in a fine layer of soil. Scrambling to his feet, he dove behind a nearby toppled tree, squeezing himself into the smallest target possible. A few more bullets splintered the tree, before a break in the fire, presumably a reload. Logan squirmed forward a few feet and jumped over the log to a large, hopefully more bullet resistant, stump. He glanced over his shoulder to where Rachel was supposed to be, unable to see anything.

Kori had dove to the earth when the gunfire started. Upon realization she was not under fire, she carefully popped her head above cover to see what was happening. She recognized the noise of Dick's rifle, and noted that it sounded like it was coming from uphill and to her left a bit. She pulled her binoculars out, and scanned the airport and the opposite slope for contacts. Her grip on the binoculars tightened.

Logan dashed to new cover, bullets buzzing past his ankles. Dick adjusted his fire a touch forward, causing his last shot to shred Logan's intended cover. Dick reloaded again, while Logan jumped for a new piece of cover. Logan glanced again over his shoulder, spying just the corner of Rachel's shoulder as she slowly crept up the slope to flank the shooter. Logan checked his gear quickly, looking for his signal mirror. He withdrew it slowly, and carefully avoiding the sun, drew it to eye level. He set it up in front the hole shot into his cover, closely scanning for any sign of the shooter. He tossed a large stick off to the side. An orange flash light up the slope. _Gotcha. _He tossed another log, and snapped his weapon around the opposite side. He unleashed half of his magazine in a linear fashion starting his aim directly at the shooter and working up, hoping one of them would be the correct adjustment for distance and connect. Logan dashed towards the shooter and upslope a bit. Dick rolled to his right, behind a tree just as the rounds connected with where he had been laying. No longer focused solely on Logan, he spotted Rachel slowly working her way up towards him. _Can't have that._ Few near misses sent her scurrying for cover.

The shrubbery nearby instantly shredded itself as Vic and Hal climbed the slope, unleashing a barrage of .50 cal and 7.62 bullets. Dick scampered uphill, zigzagging as bullets smashed trees all around him. He felt something powerful punch his shoulder, tossing him forward and into a tree, bringing his escape to an abrupt end.

Vic and Hal quickly snapped away his weaponry. Dick slowly, feebly gained his feet again, his right arm hanging limply from his shattered shoulder. Vic noted the insane anger flashing behind Dick's eyes.

"Why would you do that?" Vic asked quietly.

"Why? Because he deserved to die. He was going to kill me, but I saw through his plans and acted first. I –" A single gunshot cut the air asunder. Dick's head snapped back and he crumpled to the ground. Vic turned around rapidly, raising his weapon. Kori stood there, slowly lowering her weapon.

"What happened? Oh." Logan ran up on the scene. He noted the slight trail of smoke emanating from the Kori's SCAR. Rachel arrived shortly afterward, choosing not to say a word. Kori walked slowly forward, stopped, then immediately went back downhill.

Immediately, she climbed aboard the plane. The survivors wordlessly conducted preflight procedures, taking off for freedom.

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Point of interest: Do I really think what I described above would actually happen (assuming these characters were real, and assuming this situation was real)? No. I think Robin/Dick would have had enough training to maintain sanity under the physical stressors he endured. As all sci-fi is, (which is in my opinion essentially what any zombie movie is), this is a theoretical proposition, a 'what if' problem if you will. In this case 'what if the stress moved one member of the team to insanity? What impact would that have on the team?'


End file.
